


A Pitch Perfect Documentary: Director’s Cut

by tombs4life



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies), Pitch Perfect 3 - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Humor, Beca Can't Deal with Emotions, Beca and Chloe Might Figure It Out Eventually, Bechloe., Calamity is Hot, Cameo by Ruby Rose, Denial of Feelings, F/F, Fat Amy Being Fat Amy, Gail and John Being Creepy AF, Interviews, Jealousy, Maybe a Spinoff Fic Involving Her?, Minor Chloe/Chicago, Mutual Pining, Oh and What's Going On with Jessica and Ashley, PITCH PERFECT YAAAAS, Pitch Perfect 3, Sexual Tension, but not too much, but what's new
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-01 01:45:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13284312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tombs4life/pseuds/tombs4life
Summary: After the USO tour, Gail and John decide to keep filming. For some reason, no one stops them.Takes place after the events of Pitch Perfect 3.





	1. Chapter 1

*The following footage has been filmed and edited by highly-skilled Barden Bella connoisseurs. Really, we’re very good at what we do. Let us prove it to you—we’ll personally guide you through the a capella process. This special edition of the documentary contains all the extra juicy mouth-singing goodness that you’ve been dreaming of, the stuff that makes you want to grab some popcorn and your Barden Bella Snuggie and take in the absolutely breathtaking Aca-Awesomeness™. 

John Smith and Gail Abernathy-McKadden are not responsible for any part of this process that may be misconstrued as violating “privacy,” “basic human rights,” or “Fat Patricia’s dignity.”

**The Kiss**

“Aaaaannndddd….YES! Perfect! John, did you see that? It was incredibly natural-looking. And the skill! And those biceps! Look at the biceps on that boy, John!” Gail leaned over the man’s shoulder, who was busy squinting through the camera. He cracked a grin and consciously flexed his own muscles—yes, by golly, _he_ had them too!—underneath Gail’s pressing fingertips. She was clutching his arm tightly, gazing at Chloe and Chicago in awe. “This kiss will go great in the director’s cut—a happy ending for our happy Bellas.”

John watched as the redhead stared lovingly into the boy’s eyes. “Ah, that’s right, Gail! Those two look _very_ happy. Heck, I would be, too! Did you know there are twelve janitor’s closets in this facility alone?”

Gail did a slow double-take, loosening her grip on his arm. “You... _counted_ the janitor’s closets, John?”

He chuckled. “Yep! Twelve closets and twelve individual hidden cameras to go along with each one. Imagine the footage we’ll have by the end of the night!” The man winked and then zoomed in with his camera, getting a close-up of the two young lovebirds as they kissed again. It took Gail a moment, but she joined John in his laughter, feeling suddenly light and airy. It must have had something to do with the tour being almost finished. Their sounds wafted over to Beca, who stood a few yards away next to the Turtle, debating her next move, and wondering what about this situation was so freaking funny.

**Interview with DJ Khaled’s Manservant**

_Theo sits down and offers us some very high-end bottled water. We accept with warm, charming smiles._

_Gail:_ So, young man, you seem to have very good taste. Tell us, what made you decide to hand pick Beca Mitchell from the tour, in the end?

_Theo, looking a little surprised:_ Wow, you two cut right to the chase, don’t you?

_John:_ That’s how we do it in America. Home of the cutters.

_Theo:_ Er, right. Well, let’s see...I chose Beca because she’s very talented. Unlike anything I have ever seen before, to be honest.

_Gail:_ And because she’s pretty, right?

_Theo, looking even more surprised:_ What? No! Beca Mitchell can _sing_ , and she’s got a hell of a gift for making music. She’s more than just a pretty face. I would have been completely mental to have _not_ suggested her to DJ Khaled. I think she can go far.

_Gail:_ You think?

_Theo:_ No, I know.

_Gail:_ You think, or you know?

_Theo, his face slackening and voice becoming suspicious:_ What company are you guys from, again?

_Gail:_ Forget about that, sweetie. This interview is about _you_. Anyway, we’re wondering how you feel now that she’s technically in charge of you? It must have been hard to choose someone, knowing he or she is basically going to become your boss.

_John:_ Jeepers, I can’t imagine what you’re going through, kid. How are your boys holding up?

_Theo, choking on his water:_ I, uh—my what? Listen, I have a thing to get to, I really don’t know why I agreed to sit down with you people. I need to go back to work.

_John:_ Oh, that’s right, working for Miss Mitchell. Take my advice, Thomas, she can’t beat you at an arm wrestling match. So if she ever gets too big for her little-girl britches, just throw down the gauntlet and you’ll be fine.

_Theo:_ Okay, I’m done here. Goodbye, mates.

_Gail:_ Wait! Just one more question!

_Theo:_ ...What...?

_Gail:_ It’s a big question, too, so don’t get nervous. What stood out to you, in particular, about Beca Mitchell? Can you pick one thing?

_Theo stands up:_ Look, I know this film, or whatever it is, is important to you two, but I’m not associated with the Bellas at all. I don’t really see how I would fit in with the rest of your content. 

_Gail:_ We’re thinking of it as a creative decision on our part. Getting outside perspectives makes everything we do even more credible.

_John:_ Not that it already isn’t!

_John and I share a laugh for a few moments. Theo begins to leave, but we get up and trail him._

_Gail:_ It really is the last question. What was it about Beca Mitchell that _sold_ you?

_Theo pauses, sighs, and appears to stop and think for a second:_ I dunno...it’s hard to pinpoint one trait. 

_Gail:_ Just try your best.

_Theo:_ I guess it was...her spirit. I could see what she puts into the things that she loves. As soon as I saw that—and it didn’t take long for me to see it—I knew she was the one.

_Gail, gasping:_ The _one?_

_Theo:_ For DJ Khaled! The one for DJ Khaled. That’s literally all I meant by that.

_The bearded boy zooms away speedily. We’re impressed by how fast he can go compared to how small his stride is._

**The Last Breakfast**

Ah, Bella breakfasts. Chloe loved them. Most of the girls were gathered in the hotel dining room for the last big meal of the USO tour. Their last big meal together before heading back home. _Don’t cry!_ the redhead told herself as she nibbled on some toast. She gave the round table a sweeping glance, taking in all the beautiful, fresh-out-of-bed faces. Emily, Cynthia-Rose, Flo, Lilly (Ester?), and Jessica (she’s pretty sure) were all sitting around the table. Fat Amy was already at the buffet getting seconds. 

There were a few people missing, Chloe noticed. Ashley (she’s like, seventy percent sure), Aubrey, and Beca.

She had no idea where Ashley was or why she would be missing the last Bella breakfast. Aubrey, on the other hand, didn’t really surprise her—the woman had a tendency to workout in the mornings before she ate, so that’s probably what she was up to. But Beca? 

Chloe set down her fork and pushed her chair from the table, its legs squeaking across the floor. She sidled up beside Fat Amy at the breakfast buffet. “Hey!” the redhead chirped brightly. Amy, still apparently half asleep, turned her neck to eye the woman, spooning some eggs.

“Hey, Chloe,” she answered warily. Even in her drowsy state she could tell that something was up. If it wasn’t obvious by the too-happy smile, the over-the-shoulder double checks on Chloe’s part sealed the deal.

“Hey, so...do you know where Beca is? I thought she would come down here with you.” Chloe rubbed the side of her arm casually.

Fat Amy didn’t even try to stifle her yawn. “I dunno, I’m not exactly Beca’s keeper,” she breezed.

“Okay, well, was she still in your room when you left?”

“Er...can’t say. You know how I get when I first wake up, Chloe.” Chloe nodded a couple times, about to return to the table. She wasn’t sure why Beca’s absence bugged her. Probably because Beca was basically their leader and a huge part of the Bellas. She should totally be here! Chloe turned, but then she tuned in again to Amy, whom she hadn’t realized was still speaking. “...I stumble, take out everything in my path. Like King Kong. Or David Hasselhoff. Rawr!” The blonde chuckled lightheartedly at herself, nudging Chloe with her elbow.

As she and Amy returned to their seats at the breakfast table, Cynthia-Rose was leading a conversation about her first few days as a Barden Bella, years ago. “Man, we sucked,” she said, grinning, and everyone laughed nostalgically, even Emily and Flo. They’d also seen the Bellas through ups and downs and had heard what it was like back when Chloe and Aubrey had had to build the group back up pretty much from scratch. Now Chloe wished Aubrey was here, too. Honestly, they should have made this a mandatory breakfast. She glanced to her left, to the empty seat that Beca would have been sitting in had she shown up.

“I guess breakfast in bed will have to wait for another day,” a low, charming voice said from behind her. Chloe jumped up, smiled widely, and gave Chicago a peck on the cheek.

“Good morning!” she said cheerily. She motioned toward the empty seat for him to sit down. “Well, breakfast in bed is nice, but you haven’t experienced breakfast with the Bellas. It’s even _better_.” She ran a hand up his arm affectionately and, for a few moments, she forgot about everything that had been bothering her.

“Good bacon,” John said to Gail in the corner.

**In the Training Room**

Aubrey walked into the exercise area, her fitted yoga pants and tank top ready to be soaked to the fiber with sweat, hard work, and a whole lot of ass-kicking. She was surprised to see Beca there. Not surprised in a bad way; she actually kind of liked her, nowadays. The smaller girl, of course, wasn’t wearing proper workout attire. She had on a faded graphic t-shirt, dark jeans, and a black leather jacket wrapped around her waist. A little too punk to really pop, if you asked Aubrey. And in the gym, you needed to pop. 

Gail and John were hiding stealthily behind the pull-up machine some distance away. The girls _definitely_ didn’t know they were there. And, according to John’s logic, they weren’t going to get caught because why would the two women come over to use a pull-up machine? Why would they even kid themselves?

“I just don’t get it,” Aubrey was already chattering in Beca’s ear. Meanwhile, the brunette was throwing playing-card knives at one of the national guard dummies in the corner. “I mean, my dad taught me a lot, but it was...well, he was never there when I wanted him, you know?” The blonde sniffed, wiped the back of her palm across her nose briefly. She thrusted a fifteen-pound dumbell in the air above her head. Beca had missed the target completely, the thinly-metaled five of spades spinning through the air and clattering against the wall behind the dummy. “But, fine,” Aubrey continued, huffing out air. “If Chloe wants a military guy, then that’s who she wants. I get it. You can’t choose who you love, it just happens, and anyway, like my dad always says, ‘Absence makes the heart forget why it was mad in the first place,’ so at least if Chloe and Chicago get into a fight, he can be deployed to Afghanistan, come back in a year, and then they can start fresh. Worked for my parents…”

Beca wasn’t listening anymore. She’d been aiming for the dummy’s stomach, but the queen of hearts had spiraled and _clunked_ into a spot a few inches down, puncturing the rubber crotch and sticking there.

“Where’d you get those cards, anyway?” Aubrey finally ventured.

“From Amy. She went through, like, a magician-ninja phase.”


	2. Chapter 2

**A Whole Lot of Eye Contact**

A cool eyebrow raise was all John received when he and Gail ran into Calamity in the hallway. “Care if we film you?” John asked almost immediately, holding up his camera. “Not in a creepy way, we promise! Ha!”

“Do what you want,” said the woman, stepping past the two judges as if they weren’t even there. Her stride, as always, was confident and purposeful, and Gail is pretty certain that one or two male hotel workers nearly crapped themselves as Calamity glided by. She’s pretty certain John may have, too.

From around the corner came Beca, holding her deck of playing cards in one hand and her cell phone in the other. Her focus was concentrated on the screen of the phone. Apparently she was deeply entranced by whatever text conversation or game of crushing candies she was currently involved with. When Calamity stopped, John and Gail held their breath, waiting with rapt anticipation for Beca to careen into the woman. A big crash between two rivals would look great on camera. Closer, closer, closer…

Oh. Just in the nick of time, the tiny girl glanced up. Her eyes about doubled in size and she skidded to a halt two inches from the short-haired beauty. “No contact,” Gail whispered, still with drama in her tone.

“Whoa!” Beca said, craning her neck to look at Calamity. She found herself nearly lost for words. “I, uh...sorry. Wow. Stepping backward now.” She took a large step back, which was just a normal step for most people, pursing her lips and appearing rather embarrassed by her lack of awareness.

Calamity took a step forward, shortening the distance between them again.“Beca Mitchell, right? Girl with the talent?” She seemed to loom over Beca, having a good five inches on the girl.

Beca scratched the side of her nose with her finger, trying to appear calm. She seemed calm, right? She had no reason to not be calm. “Uh...yeah. Apparently so. That’s what the kids these days are saying, anyway.” She wanted to look away from Calamity’s face but found that, well, she couldn’t. The other woman was staring, with eyes that Beca couldn’t help but notice were a very stunning shade of light green. _Holy crap, we probably shouldn’t be standing this close._ “And you’re, uh, that badass lead singer. You guys were killer onstage, just so you know.”

“Oh, it’s not just an onstage thing.” And then Calamity winked, an action which made Beca realize that all the hard work she’s put into trying _not_ to ramble like a thesaurus-less idiot over the years (see: Das Sound Machine) was about to go down the drain. The taller woman quirked her mouth just slightly. “But thanks, I appreciate it.”

 _She appreciates it._ It wasn’t what Beca had expected. A thank you? From the leader of the group who’d given them such a hard time in the beginning? “You’re very welcome,” Beca replied, maybe a little too enthusiastically. She coughed once into her fist. Calamity’s stare was drilling into her, eyes observant and calculating. Beca felt like she was under a microscope. 

“My bandmates were wrong about you,” the woman said after sizing her up. 

Beca had no idea what that meant. “Okay…” she began, wondering how she should be reacting to being so closely studied. Was there a way she could Google it without Calamity noticing?

Calamity’s face was serious. “They said you must have been kissing that guy Theo’s ass. I told them it was probably the other way around.” She shrugged her shoulders evenly. 

“Oh...well, good. You actually hit the nail on the head, there.” Beca let out a breath.

“Cover singer or not, you stand out from the crowd. You're different.”

The smaller girl tucked a strand of hair behind her head and said the first thing that came to mind. “Hell yeah, I am.” It made Calamity show the briefest flash of teeth.

“And that’s why they owe me money, now.” 

This made Beca laugh. She was about to keep going with the whole say-what-comes-to-mind thing, probably something along the lines of “Well, if DJ Khaled was picking solely on hair perfection, you would have won,’ but before she could gush any more, Beca heard a familiar, energetic voice approaching from behind.

“I’ll be back in a minute!” the voice was calling, and as Calamity finally broke eye contact, Beca also turned to see Chloe coming down the hallway. Her confused stare landed on Beca, slid over to Calamity for a few fleeting seconds, and then returned to Beca once more. “Oh, hey, Becs. Everything okay?”

“Yep!” Beca said quickly, turning back to Calamity, whose expression was one of composed amusement. “Anyway, you were probably going somewhere, right? And I’m just standing here like a human roadblock.”

“Trust me, I could have gotten past you if I’d wanted. You’re not very big.” Upon Beca’s noticeable flush, Calamity smirked. “Congrats on the Khaled gig.” She moved past Beca and, without acknowledging Chloe, who had stopped right behind the tiny brunette, Calamity turned the corner and disappeared. 

Chloe waited a few seconds, but when Beca didn’t do anything except look at the ground and smile to herself, she finally spoke. “Okay, what was _that_ about?” she asked, sounding like she was trying hard to maintain a neutral tone.

“I’m...not exactly sure? It’s all kind of a blur.” She ran a hand through her hair, trying to remember if she’d said anything stupid. She’d have to ask her stalkers for some video footage, later. That’ll be fun to watch.

“It looked like she wanted to eat you for breakfast.” The redhead laid a hand on Beca’s shoulder, causing the brunette to look her in the eyes for the first time. Beca was just trying not to think about what Chloe’s statement could have implied. “Either that, or you two were having a really intense staring contest. Big change from when her group wouldn’t even look at us.” She paused. “Well, she _still_ didn’t look at me.”

“Well, I kind of walked right into her, and—”

Lowering her voice a notch, Chloe cut in. “You must have earned her respect, somehow.” The woman seemed partially in awe and partially annoyed.

Shaking her head, Beca began continuing on toward her room. “Lucky me,” she commented. She only took a few steps before Chloe grabbed her elbow gently.

“Hey, speaking of breakfast, where were you this morning? I thought you’d be there.” She looked just a little crestfallen, like a lost puppy, and it made Beca’s chest tighten. She’d _known_ Chloe wouldn’t be able to just let that go.

“I had some energy to burn off.” She tucked the deck of cards in her back pocket subtly. “Sorry, though, really. I’ll make it up to you, Chlo.”

“It was the last breakfast,” Chloe pushed, biting her lip. It was enough to jab at Beca’s guilt and irritate her simultaneously. She wasn’t sure what it was, today, that was bothering her about Chloe’s prodding, but she suddenly felt almost overwhelmed. It was like the woman was trying hard to cling to Beca when she really didn’t want to be clung to.

“We can all eat peanuts on the plane together?” Beca tried, giving Chloe her best ‘I’m sorry’ face. It took the other woman a few moments, but she gave Beca a slow, forgiving smile.

“Have you packed yet? I still have a bunch to do.”

“I’m not completely there. And I know I’ll have to help Amy, too, because she’s got stuff all around the room.” Beca trudged on through the conversation, forcing herself to keep looking at Chloe and silently cursing at the unfairness of the woman’s ‘I woke up like this’ look—bedhead apparently wasn’t a thing for her cascading red locks. “By the way, have you seen my makeup bag? I still need to put my face on before the day starts.”

“Oh, yeah, I borrowed a few things from it. _May_ have packed it in my suitcase by accident. You can go in and dig it out if you need it, I’m just going to grab something from my room and then meet Chicago.” 

Beca noticed the way Chloe’s eyes lit up as she mentioned his name. Somehow Beca didn’t correlate that with the weird flop her stomach did at the same time. “Right. So how are you guys? You two are cute, by the way.” She heard her own voice take on an alarmingly girly sound.

“We’re great! I mean, obviously, I’m going to go home and he’s going to go wherever it is he needs to go next. But we’re going to talk and figure out what our plan is.” She smiled. “Well, at some point we’ll actually talk. He’s _so_ dreamy, Beca.”

It’s not like they’ve never had conversations about boys before. But for some reason, Beca gritted her teeth. It must have been because she skipped breakfast and her blood sugar was low—that’s really the only thing that made sense.

**The Magician-Ninja**

“Actually, the proper term is ninjutsu illusionist. Please get it right.” Fat Amy strolled through the hotel room with a cherry Poptart in one hand and a fluffy teddy bear in the other. Gail and John followed her around attentively, watching her every move. Through a mouthful of frosted toaster pastry, she yelled, “Beca!” and threw the bear into an open suitcase. It was kind of a stumpy little stuffed animal, with an annoyingly-cocky smirk and sports sandals on its feet. It looked like it was from Build-A-Bear.

“What?” a high-pitched voice answered from the bathroom after a few seconds.

“Do you know where my shamrock Crocs are? They remind me of Steve Irwin. I can’t leave them behind.” She walked over to the bathroom doorway, Gail and John close on her tail, angling the camera and microphone toward the two girls. They caught a glimpse of Beca spritzing cologne on the pulse point of her neck. Amy made a face, forehead crinkling, brows knitting together. “Er...why are you putting on cologne? I always thought your scent was manly enough…” 

Beca glared at the mirror, instantly setting the bottle back onto the counter with a clink. “I was just trying it out.”

Fat Amy threw her hands up innocently. “Okay! Jesus, put some more on, I think you need to cover up those hormones!” She started to back away from the bathroom, but then Beca’s face changed into guilt.

“No, Amy, stop. I’m sorry. I got all defensive. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. It’s like I’ve turned into Oscar the Grouch, without the trashcan, and without the cute green fuzz.”

Shoving the rest of the Poptart into her mouth, Amy chewed thoughtfully. “And the unibrow. And the hand up his bumcrack. Wait, Beca, you don’t have a hand up your bumcrack, do you? It might explain a lot.”

“Pretty sure I don’t. But thanks for checking.” Beca ran a hand over her face and sighed. After a moment of chewing and swallowing, Amy stepped in closer, as if on impulse. Her nose wiggled a little.

“Hmm...that scent…”

Beca straightened up a bit too quickly. “Yeah, what about it?”

“I just feel like I’ve smelt it before. Like, recently.” Her voice became wistful. “Or in a dream, perhaps.”

The brown-haired woman suddenly looked like she wanted to retreat further into the bathroom. But it wasn’t a large bathroom, not if the goal was to get away, so she just turned around to face Amy, her fingers clenched on the edge of the counter behind her. “Your Crocs are in the bathtub, where you left them to soak. You said they needed water to survive, remember?”

“Beca…” Fat Amy leaned in closer, her face inquisitive, her body cornering the other girl into the small space. “...Do I detect tall, white, and handsome?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe a hint of chin-chiseled hunkiness?”

“We need to finish packing.”

“Aviators and a dashing smile?”

“Don’t you want to go home?”

“Aha!” The blonde pointed straight at Beca, who raised an eyebrow and looked at Amy’s extended finger. “I knew it! The cologne, the crotchety attitude...it all makes sense!”

Beca took a breath to steady herself. “Okay, Amy, before you say anything else, I think I can explain—”

“You’re joining the army!” Fat Amy appeared positively smug for figuring it out, her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Shh!” Beca said, appearing confused. But also relieved. “Not so loud. We’re within a six-inch vicinity of each other.”

“But, Beca, what about your new DJ Khaled thing? Someone has to take your place working with him.” She paused, then raised her hand slightly, face solemn. “I volunteer.”

“Uhm, I’m not joining the army, Amy. Look, can we forget this even happened? Let’s just go meet up with the others.” She scratched the back of her neck in discomfort.

“Oh, right, Chloe’s probably waiting for you.”

“I mean, I guess.” Beca shrugged nonchalantly. “She might still be packing. I don’t really keep _that_ close of tabs on her.” She cleared her throat and turned back around to face the mirror. After a minute, however, her eyes raised and she looked past her reflection, suddenly swiveling again on the spot. “Okay, what the hell!  I told you, no documentary…-ing…in hotel rooms! Especially when we’re getting ready. And especially if it’s _you!_ ” She pointed in irritation at John, who ducked behind his camera.

“I tried to remind him!” Gail called back.

**The Voyage Home!**

“No, I’ve never thought Beca smelled manly,” Cynthia-Rose answered seriously from her window seat. She put her headphones back in. “She’s always just smelled like Beca. Can you weirdos please leave me alone? I’m grooving over here.”

Ester peeked up from the seat behind Cynthia-Rose. “Well, that’s sad,” she commented vaguely. Vaguely, but, strangely enough, audibly. Her eyes darted from the back of Cynthia-Rose’s head to Gail and John, who were perched precariously on the seat next to Cynthia-Rose.

“Uh...can we ask what, exactly, you think is sad, Lilly?” Gail’s body had turned toward the girl, her jeweled hand wrapping around the back of the plane seat.

Unfazed, Ester slumped back in her seat, drawing her knees to her chest. “Lilly? Oh, you two haven’t heard the news. I’m no longer possessed. By the way, do you have footage of this ‘Lilly’ girl? I want to know what she looked like.”

Gail and John looked at each other. Cynthia-Rose kept bobbing her head to her music. “Um…” John began, but Gail put a finger to his lips.

“Sweetie,” she said gently to Ester, “I don’t know how to break this to you, but you look exactly the same as you always have.”

The girl shook her head adamantly. “No, I know she looked completely different.”

Up ahead in the plane, Chloe tilted her head to the side, folding the note back up that Chicago had given her before they left. She nudged Ashley or Jessica, who was sitting beside her. “Hey, do you smell something?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know...something good?” It didn’t make sense. Could Chicago’s scent really still be lingering in her nose? It had been a good hour since she’d sniffed him back at the airport!

Jessica or Ashley shrugged.

Two seats back, Beca sat with her laptop open, biting a fingernail. God, this cologne stuff really was strong. How did men wear it? And why the hell had she put it on in the first place? Chicago wasn’t exactly a smell she wanted to remember. Damn impulse decisions. Rubbing her neck with her palm several times, she gazed out the window, watching the clouds float by. 

“Psst.” From behind her, Fat Amy was somehow managing to lounge across two plane seats.

“What?” Beca asked without turning around.

“Just so you know, your cologne is kind of making me—”

“Please don’t say horny. Please, god, don’t say that.”

“Too soon for an Evermoist joke?” Amy crossed her arms behind her head lazily, and Beca just closed her eyes. Which might have been a mistake because, well—she didn’t know if this was an effect of the cologne, or what—but suddenly her mind flashed back to that stupid kiss she’d witnessed.

_It wasn’t stupid, it was adorable. Good for Chloe, right?_

It’d been like a cheesy movie scene, complete with the dipping, the leg pop, the swooning in each others’ arms. Not that Beca was very familiar with such scenes. After all, she never finished movies, and that’s supposedly when such things happened: at the end. Regardless, she kept seeing it over and over, and yet again she was reminded why she could never bring herself to make it till the end of any film. It was always just too predictable. 

“No, John,” Gail could be heard from the back. “It’s not because she’s foreign. You really need to watch what you say, it’s all going to be caught on film.”

“I just don’t think it’s a coincidence that she’s Asian and also the only one here who can’t see—”

Cynthia-Rose ripped her headphones out of her ears, shooting a glance at Gail. “Can I smack him?”


	3. Chapter 3

**The Voyage Home! (continued): Interview with Chloe Beale**

_We’ve ushered Miss Beale to an empty seat in the back of the plane so that we can interview her without interruption._

_Gail:_ How’s the trip going so far?

 _Chloe, shrugging:_ Mm, not bad. Kinda long. And it’s kinda sad, too—being finished with the USO tour. Not that I usually get sentimental about things like this, but—

 _Aubrey Posen, from a few rows up, who’s apparently been eavesdropping on our interview:_ Ha!

 _Chloe:_ Anyway, I think we’re all probably kind of ready to get back, at the same time. Although I have to say, I’m not really sure what happened with the seating. A few of us don’t seem to be sitting next to our ‘normal people.’

 _Gail:_ ‘Normal people?’ Now, what does that mean?

 _Chloe:_ Don’t get me wrong, I love all the Bellas, and I love them equally! But over the years, everyone has fallen into patterns. And everyone has one or two girls that, on trips like this, they pair up with. We call it the Bella Buddy System. BBS for short.

 _John:_ Oh, that’s neat. Did you know that’s the same acronym we use for Barden Bella Snuggies? We’re selling them for $39.95, plus shipping and handling.

 _Gail:_ John, I thought we agreed that we’d lower the price on those. No one’s going to pay forty dollars for a blanket with sleeves. Even if it _is_ ‘Bella’ themed.

 _John:_ You’d be surprised.

 _Gail:_ Chloe, would you pay that?

 _Chloe:_ Depends what colors they’re available in.

 _John:_ Blue, red, white, green, black, yellow, and maroon.

 _Chloe:_ No pink?

 _John:_ I’m afraid not. I thought we needed to appeal to _all_ audiences—pink is pretty gender-specific, don’t you think? It’s important to be inclusive, these days.

 _Chloe:_ Oh.

 _Gail:_ So, if you don’t mind my asking, who do you usually sit by?

 _Chloe:_ Aubrey or Beca. But Aubrey’s next to Emily—they seem to have gotten pretty buddy-buddy lately—and Beca is next to...Flo? Is that who that is?

_She cranes her neck to look ahead. John and I squint our eyes, too._

_John:_ Flo? I thought her name was Lilly.

 _Gail, hitting John on the arm:_ Two different ethnicities, John. Lilly’s over there.

 _Lilly:_ Ester.

 _Gail:_ Interesting. Why do you think Beca’s sitting with Florencia?

 _Chloe:_ I don’t know. I mean, it’s fine, I’m totally cool with it. But I also don’t get why Jessica and Ashley aren’t sitting next to each other. Is this, like, the Twilight Zone or something? _She appears somewhat distressed for a second._ Shoot, I’m sorry. This is an interview. What did you guys want to ask me? I’m happy to help with this daca-mentary in any way I can. I think it’s great that you’re going to help our experiences as the Barden Bellas live on forever.

 _Gail:_ Exactly! Chloe, that’s exactly right. Well, I guess our first question is this: Where is life taking you once this trip is over? What’s the next step?

 _Chloe:_ I’m becoming a vet. I’m so excited! 

_Gail:_ That’s right! And how, may I ask, did you decide that’s what you wanted to do? I remember the Chloe Beale who, just like most young, newly-graduated adults, had few ideas as to what she wanted as a career. I believe it was between teaching underprivileged kids how to sing or...dancing exotically?

 _Chloe:_ I’m not sure how you know that, but yeah! When I got out of college, I just started trying new things. I tried the song-teaching, and I tried the exotic dancing, but none if it really seemed...right. You know? There was a lot of trial and error, and a lot of getting my feet wet, but what eventually led me in the vet direction was the epiphany I had.

 _Gail, leaning forward:_ Epiphany?

 _Chloe:_ Epiphany. It’s one of my new favorite words. It means ‘to have a sudden realization, often life-changing.’

 _John:_ We actually do know what that word means, Miss Beale, but thank you. That’ll be helpful for the audience.

 _Gail:_ What I meant to ask was what _kind_ of epiphany did you have? What, exactly, happened?

 _Chloe:_ Well, I realized that there was something missing from my life. Like there was...a void. 

_Gail:_ Go on.

 _Chloe:_ I realized it one day when I was walking through the park. It was a day just like any other: beautiful, sunny, children playing. A nice breeze. And then I passed under a tree, and there it was—a squirrel. A squirrel with a...with a broken tail. Just laying there, still as can be, fluffy but oh-so-helpless.

_She seems to tear up a little._

_Gail:_ I’m sorry. I know this must be hard for you.

 _Chloe, holding up a hand:_ No, no, I’m fine. The squirrel...it was just so _alone._ And also sad, but also cute, with its big, sweet eyes and brown hair. Uh, fur. And its tiny body. Gosh, it was so _little._ I—

_She stops mid sentence, apparently getting distracted by something up ahead. Florencia Fuentes passes us by on her way to the restroom, giving us the side-eye._

_Chloe:_ I’m sorry, do you think we could do this another time? 

_Gail:_ Hm? What’s wrong?

 _Chloe:_ I just need to go, for now.

 _Gail:_ Go? Go where?

 _John:_ Where is there to go on a plane?

 _Florencia, calling from behind:_ Um, the bathroom?

**Some Footage We Decided Not to Throw Out**

Flo ran a damp paper towel across her forehead as she looked at herself in the mirror. Really, she was fine. _Muy bien._

She’d simply forgotten how much she disliked planes. They flew way too high and made her body feel tingly. They had narrow aisles and tiny windows and there was absolutely no _place to go._ She felt trapped. But the trapped feeling was just paranoia, and the paranoia was probably because of all the stories she’d heard in Guatemala of women swallowing pills and flying to America to deliver them for money. Or freedom. Or both. Airplanes reminded her of those stories and, truthfully, Flo didn’t like to be reminded of smuggling—in any form. It was just too soon...

_Knock, knock, knock._

The woman jolted out of her flashbacks. She crinkled the paper towel into a ball and threw it away. When she opened the door and stepped into the hallway, her eyes landed on Ashley, who was waiting for her turn to use the restroom with her arms crossed loosely over her chest. “Oh, hey, chica,” Flo greeted her, painting a smile across her face.

“Hey,” Ashley replied, returning a half-smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Flo noticed immediately. A similar sense of distress to the one she herself had been feeling was reflected in the other girl’s gaze. The Latina woman recognized this; it made her pause outside the doorway, the expression of a worried mother etched across her face. 

_Is she alright?_ Flo thought with concern. _Should I ask? Is it my_ job _to ask? Why are Americans so closed off about their problems, anyway?_ It was around this time that Flo realized she probably shouldn’t have had that triple-shot caramel macchiato before the flight—she could feel the caffeine coursing through her veins. 

“Um,” Ashley began slowly, “is everything okay with you?” 

_Am I having an adrenaline rush right now? Is that why I feel jittery? Is that why Ashley’s looking at me like I’m loca? And why does she still look so upset? ¡Ay! I’m going to ask, even though it’s_ Jessica’s _job to take care of Ashley. Where_ is _Jessica? And how much longer am I going to be stuck in this flying metal death trap??_

Ashley was staring, probably taking note of the woman’s glazed expression and wondering why she wouldn’t just go back to her seat. Flo, snapping back to reality once again, blurted out the first bit of information that came to her mind:

“Did you know that the smuggling of heroin through commercial airlines has decreased by over fifty percent throughout the past eight years?”

“I...didn’t know that. But with the amount of frisking they do nowadays, it makes sense.” Ashley slid her hands into her pockets, seeming to grow more concerned for her fellow Bella. 

“That’s good, right?” Florencia nodded a couple times as if to reassure herself. “So as long as none of us are attempting to illegally transport drugs, this flight will go smoothly, and we’ll all be able to escape—uh, get out of here—soon.” _Dios,_ Flo was just ready to be back on solid ground so she could do cartwheels without getting yelled at.

Ashley seemed to have momentarily given up on reaching for the bathroom door handle. “Are you good?”

“Oh, sí. Look, Ash, I just wanted to let you know that, in my country, mi familia used to call me _‘Las Orejas,’_ because I was a great listener. I listened to everything, and everyone. Sometimes...I would hear things that couldn’t be unheard.”

It looked like Ashley was struggling to follow Flo’s train of thought. “...‘The Ears?’ That’s really what they called you?”

“Mhm.” Flo’s voice became softer, because even though they were in the back of the plane, which offered some seclusion, she had an inexplicable feeling that they were being watched, somehow. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, if you ever need to talk, amiga, just hit me up. I’m here for you.” There was a hopeful sparkle in her eye.

Several seconds ticked by. Ashley looked around, sighed, then slumped against the wall. “Okay, fine. But you have to promise to keep it on the down-low. I don’t normally let myself gossip about these things.”

Flo watched her very solemnly, making a cross motion over her heart. “Of course. My lips are sealed.” She paused. “...What things are we gossiping about, exactly?”

Hesitantly, Ashley began her confession. “Well, uh...it’s like this...”

Peeking up from behind a seat a short distance away, Gail whispered, “What just happened?”

“Oh, shoot,” John muttered, fumbling with the camera. “Battery died. We’ll have to switch to the smaller one.” He pulled out his spare video recorder. Gail watched him press a few buttons on the device that she knew he was even less familiar with.

“Is the smaller one worse quality?” she asked inquisitively.

“No, Gail. The performance won’t be affected by the size. I know these are things you worry about.”

**The Voyage Home! (continued, again)**

Chloe plopped down in the seat next to Beca, vacated temporarily by Flo.“Hola, senorita,” she chirped brightly. 

The brunette looked up from her computer screen, her body twitching ever so slightly, as if Chloe had startled her. It hadn’t been very noticeable, but Chloe saw it—she liked to think she was really good at reading people.

“Chloe! Hey!” Beca seemed like she was trying not to visibly shrink back against the plane window. She pressed a palm over her neck indifferently, an action which didn’t go unnoticed by Chloe, who killed time by making a sweeping glance around the plane, taking note of how everyone was just doing their own thing—listening to music, or reading, or playing a game on their phone, or staring out the window. _Bor-ing._ It didn’t take long for Chloe to quickly bring her full attention back to Beca, a much more interesting view, as always.

“So how are things going back here?” she asked, staring as the woman closed her laptop and slipped it fluidly into her backpack with only one hand. Impressive, but...weird. “Plane ride’s a little quiet, if you ask me.”

“Everyone’s tired,” Beca reasoned. She watched Chloe with some aloofness as Chloe made herself comfortable in the seat. After a moment or two, a slow smile spread across the brown-haired woman’s face. “Dude, you know Flo’s sitting there, right?” She nodded her head at the green phone balanced on the arm of the chair that had a ‘Holy Aca-mole!’ sticker on the case.

Chloe gazed at Beca steadily. “I’m just keeping it warm,” she told her, wiggling her butt a little to get comfortable.

Beca faced the front again, shrugging her shoulders offhandedly. “Whatever you say, Beale,” she said, preparing to settle in for the rest of the plane ride. It would help, Chloe thought, if the other woman didn’t still have her hand over her neck. _Now that can’t be comfortable._ She needed to loosen the girl up, because Beca had seemed so on edge ever since the end of the tour, and that needed to stop, like, now. Struck by sudden inspiration, Chloe straightened up in her seat.

“Oh my gosh. You know what we should do?” she asked perkily, reigning in Beca’s focus again. When the smaller girl’s only answer was a raised eyebrow—an action which Beca had long ago perfected—she leaned in, resting a hand on Beca’s arm. “We should start _singing._ ”

Beca let out a brisk laugh, eyes dancing over Chloe’s face. “You serious? How are you not exhausted?” she asked incredulously. 

The redhead decided to take the comment as a compliment, sticking her chin out and proudly displaying her non-exhaustion. “I’m a trooper, Beca. Do you think I learned nothing during our time at a military outpost?” Chloe was staring at Beca expectantly, as she often had in years past. Beca may have that eyebrow raise down pat, but Chloe also had a few go-to expressions in her reserves—the current one being a slight head dip, an upward, wistful gaze into the other girl’s eyes. It worked on Beca every time. 

And this time was no different. The woman finally conceded, rolling her eyes and pretending to crack her neck, moving it from side to side. “Alright, sure, let’s do it. Let’s sing. I don’t think we’re in the USA yet, though, so we might have to switch up our repertoire.” Chloe’s smile widened at this comment, the nostalgia of the old days making her feel extra close to Beca. She lightly squeezed the girl’s forearm.

“Awesome! So, I’m thinking ‘Alejandro’ or ‘Despacito’ or—”

“Wow,” Beca interrupted, eyes widening, “those are both _such_ white girl songs.” She shook her head disapprovingly. Chloe scoffed.

“Are you kidding? ‘Despacito’ is _literally_ all in Spanish.”

“Yeah, and it’s played on every pop radio station and at every college frat party known to man. White girls get trashed listening to that song.”

Chloe sat even taller in her seat, eyes flashing. “Oh, and you would know that how?” she asked teasingly, poking Beca in the side, to which the girl responded by smacking Chloe’s hand away with her own free one.

“Because I’ve devoted a lot of time and effort into _not_ being a white girl who gets trashed listening to ‘Despacito’ at a frat party. And so far, I’ve been successful.” She was smirking, as if to imply that maybe, perhaps, Chloe might not be able to say the same. “Do you at least know the words to it?”

“Yes!” Chloe insisted. She had an inexplicable urge to push Beca lightly on the shoulder, and so she did. “And if I need help, I’m sure Flo will fill in the gaps when she gets back. Also, I’m hurt that you doubt my lyrical abilities.” She feigned disappointment. “I’m sensing a lot of doubt on your part, actually, Beca.”

“Are you?” Beca had taken her eyes off of Chloe. She’d probably be gazing across the plane at the other passengers if she could, but she was too little, and was just staring at the backs of the blue leather seats.

“Yeah, when did that happen?” Admittedly, Chloe’s tone had shifted a little, to some place less joking and more sincere. She hadn’t meant to do that but, well, she’d been having the strangest feeling that the reason Beca seemed ‘off’ had something to do with her.

Beca’s only response was a shrug, perhaps one that conveyed the tiniest trace of guilt. Their playful banter was threatening to die out, and Chloe didn’t want that to happen. This was the first time she’d seen Beca laugh in a while, and Beca’s laughter was on Chloe’s list of top ten things she absolutely cherished. It was even above dogs.

And then, from behind them, Fat Amy burst into song: 

“Despacito! La la la la la la des-pa-cito...blah lah la la mm mmmhmm-cito…” 

Loud hums and random semi-Spanish noises were all that Beca and Chloe could pay attention to for the next several minutes. At first, it was difficult to maintain their composure, but as the time went by and they were unable to carry a conversation with one another because of the raucous singing, both their mouths turned into straight lines. “Really?” was all that Beca mouthed, and Chloe tapped her fingers against the arm of the chair. Fat Amy ended with one of her characteristic, painfully-ambitious, drawn out notes. Beca and Chloe turned in their seats to look. In fact, the whole plane did—the sheer volume of Amy’s voice starkly contrasted with the near silence that had filled the small space just moments ago.

Beca put both hands on the back of the seat. “Always with the strong finish, Amy. Nice.”

“I’m a hell of a finisher, you know that.”

As Beca turned toward Chloe again, rolling her eyes, the redhead caught a whiff of something. No, not just something—it was that smell again. The really good one. _Chicago’s_ smell. On instinct, Chloe leaned even closer toward Beca and breathed in, an action which made Beca immediately bring her hand back up to her neck with a soft smack. Chloe watched her, brows furrowed in suspicion. “Beca…”

Beca kept her face expressionless. “Yes, Chloe?” She wasn’t quite making eye contact.

Chloe dipped her head closer. “Why do you...smell like that?” She was inching over in her own seat in order to smell the woman and Beca seemed to be growing uncomfortable with the increased closeness. 

“Smell like what?” Beca stalled, playing dumb. It only made Chloe more determined. Her eyes almost darkened as she watched the other woman bite her lip beside her.

“Like cologne.” She clasped Beca’s hand with her own, attempting to pull it away from the girl’s neck.

“Hey!” she said tensely, taking her hand back, but it was too late. Chloe had caught the scent again and latched on, clearly identifying it as Chicago’s cologne and affirming her beliefs that Beca was really, really bad at pretending to be innocent.

“Hey, yourself!” Chloe was confused, and also incredibly curious. She had to get to the bottom of this. And she would do it by whatever means necessary. As Beca shot her a look of bite-sized fierceness, Chloe’s eyes gleamed. _Looks like I’ll have to do this the hard way._

She wasn’t sure why she liked the sound of that so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments, concerns, or suggestions are welcome! More content is on the way!


End file.
